


civil war II

by softdadironman



Series: sit next to me [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Big Brother Bucky Barnes, Big Brother Clint Barton, Child Peter Parker, Childish Peter Parker, Comfort, Crying, Cute Peter Parker, Domestic Avengers, Family Feels, Feel-good, Fluff, Not Beta Read, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter is a Little Shit, Prank War, Pranks, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Avengers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Team as Family, Teasing, Tickle Fights, Tickling, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Touch-Starved, Wholesome, and also a little shit, big brother sam wilson, he's 16 still but he is basically a big baby tbh, i try my best, laughing, make that a popular tag u cowards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 02:30:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19242010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softdadironman/pseuds/softdadironman
Summary: Someone is playing pranks around the Compound, and it's not Peter.Who gets blamed, anyways? Peter.He blames the Parker luck, but if you asked anyone else, it's the kid's own fault for looking so adorable when he's mad.





	civil war II

For the record, Peter didn’t start it. Not directly, anyways. If him bringing up the senior pranks at his school gave the others some idea, that’s beyond him. This isn’t on him. 

 

It’s not his fault the Avengers are in a full blown prank war. 

 

Don’t get him wrong - Peter likes messing with people as much as he can. He even likes pranks. 

 

Prank wars, however? A prank war with the Avengers? That’s a mix for a disaster. 

 

Peter’s trying to stay out of it as much as he can. He’s pouring milk into his cereal when Clint storms in with electric blue hair. “Morning!” Peter greets, and Clint glares at him. “Everything okay, Mr. Barton?” 

 

Silently, he yanked a bottle out of the fridge and twisted the cap off. “I like the hair,” Peter added, and Clint squeezed the bottle so hard, water came out. “Who did it?” 

 

“Nat has better class than this,” he said, strumming his fingers on the countertop. “Tony, maybe? God, I hate it.” He picked a strand of his hair and pulled it down in front of his eyes. 

 

“I think it’s cute,” Peter said, sighing. “I wanted to dye my hair red a bit ago.” 

 

“Well, you’re a teenager. I am not,” he said. “What am I supposed to do? I have a date with Laura today.” 

 

Peter perked up. “You finally got a date with her?” he exclaimed. 

 

Clint squinted at him. “Yeah, Birdman’s got game. Why do you sound so surprised?” 

 

“I never thought you’d make a move! Oh, maybe she’ll dig it? We can bleach it, or you can go for it. Maybe she’ll think it’s cute. Oh, oh, what are you going to wear? Because if you matched your clothes to your--” 

 

“Holy shit, Peter,” Clint interrupted, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d mistake you for my mother.” 

 

Peter smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Mr. Barton, but you’re going on a date! I’m so excited!” He grabbed Clint’s hand and started tugging. “Where to?” 

 

Clint huffed as Peter pulled him into Clint’s bedroom. Peter went straight for the closet and started throwing stuff on the bed. “I’m taking her to a movie and then dinner.” 

 

“It’s supposed to be dinner and a movie but okay.” Peter pulled out a baby blue button up and held it up to him. “That’d be cute.” 

 

“You’re going to make me a Smurf.” Clint pointed to a plain white shirt, and Peter gaped at him. 

 

“Imbecile, you have to dress up for the first date!” 

 

Clint dropped his hand. “Did you just call me an imbecile?” 

 

Peter slowly turned around. “Sorry, Mr. Barton,” he grumbled. He pulled out a pair of nice jeans and a navy blue shirt and handed it to Clint. “So, you know how you’re gonna get them back yet?” 

 

“Oh, I don’t know. You got any ideas?” Peter shrugged. “You’re a kid. Aren’t you supposed to be good at these?” 

 

“I’d like to stay out of it as much as I can,” Clint said, pointing to his hair. “But those bastards are gonna pay.”

 

Clint clenched his fist with such dedication it scared Peter. 

  
  


Later that day, Peter stumbled into Steve on his way to the lab. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Cap,” he mumbled, yelling at his Spidey Sense for abandoning him. “Whoa…” 

 

Steve ran his fingers through his green hair. “I know. I’m going to kill him,” he promised, clenching his fist. “Wanna help?” 

 

“Cap, you know how much I love our teamups, but…” Peter trailed off. “I think Mr. Stark would ever forgive me.” 

 

Steve smiled, rubbing his hands together. “I figured you’d be all over a prank war.” 

 

“They can get nasty,” he said, shrugging. “I wish you luck, though.” Steve grinned and thanked him before running off to do unthinkable things. 

 

The compound was in complete turmoil ever since this prank war started. Peter had managed to escape it all. 

 

Clint, however, wasn’t at all as lucky. 

 

“Mr. Barton, you’re gonna do great!” Peter said, trying his best to hype him up. Clint gulped as he finished buttoning up his shirt. “You look pretty!” 

 

Clint raised an eyebrow. “You’re supposed to call guys handsome.” 

 

Peter cocked his head to the side. “May always told me I looked pretty.” 

 

“Really? I’d say cute,” Clint teased, grabbing his nose. 

 

“Not cute,” Peter snarled, hitting his hand a little too hard. “I take it back, Mr. Barton. You’re… No, you know what? I can’t wish you bad luck. I am mad at you, though.” Clint rolled his eyes. “Can I still hitch a ride with you to the movies? I’m low on webs.” 

 

“I have to pick up my date, so you’ll have to behave.” 

 

“Of course! When do I not behave?” 

 

Not even half an hour later, Clint picks up Laura from her house. “How do you feel about kids?” 

 

She tightens her hold on her purse. “This is a first date, Clint.” 

 

“Oh, no, no, no. Not,” he cringed, pinching his nose. “No, Laura, that’s not… There’s a kid in my backseat.” 

 

She takes a step back. “A specific kid, or should I call the police?” 

 

At that exact moment, Peter poked his head out of the window of the car and yelled, “Hi, Miss Laura, you look lovely this evening!” 

 

“Thanks,” she said, waving her hand. “He’s not yours, is he?” 

 

“Eh, kind of,” he said, shrugging. “He’s more of Tony’s than anybody’s.” She pursed her lips. “So, movie?” 

 

Peter was deathly still in the backseat the whole ride there. Once they arrived at the movies, Peter thanked him and ran off to meet up with Ned and Mj. 

 

Clint opened the door for her to step out. She grabbed his hand to steady herself. She smiled at him and stared off at Peter, who was in a deep conversation. “He’s a cute kid. He the reason your hair is…?” 

 

“Of course not,” Clint said, flashing a smile. “I purposely dyed my hair this atrocious color for the aesthetic.” 

 

Laura snickered so hard a snort came out. “I kinda like it,” she said, covering her mouth. “It’s cute.” 

 

“It’s handsome,” he corrected. 

 

“Well, you are that too,” she said, grabbing his hand. “Movie time?” 

 

Clint couldn’t contain his smile as they headed inside. 

  
  


Peter excitedly ran up to MJ and Ned. “Hey, sorry I’m late!” he greeted. 

 

“Peter, come on,” Mj said, already walking away. “Barnes and Noble is having a sale, and I don’t want my book to sell out.” 

 

“Okay, okay,” Peter said, walking next to Ned as MJ raced into the store. 

 

They’d just reached the entrance when a hand grabbed at Peter’s elbow and yanked him back. His Spidey Sense didn’t go off, so he calmly let himself get pulled out. “Who is it this time?” he asked, unimpressed. He looked over his shoulder to see an agitated Clint. 

 

“We’re going,” Clint said, tugging on him. 

 

“What? Where’s Laura?” Peter asked, reaching to his friends. 

 

“In the car,” he said through gritted teeth. 

 

“Oh, um, bye Ned; bye Mj!” Peter called before he was thrown into the car. “What happened?” 

 

Clint was silent as he drove off. He furiously scratched at his neck. Laura peeked around the seat to give Peter a pitiful look. “Itching power,” she said, frowning. 

 

“What?” Peter exclaimed. “No way!” 

 

“Yes way,” Clint snapped, stopping at a red light. “I’m going to kill them.” 

 

Laura frowned in the passenger seat, obviously disappointed by how the date was turning out. “Um, Mr. Barton?” Clint huffed for him to continue. “How about you guys go swimming?” 

 

“Peter, I’m breaking out in hives--” 

 

“Swimming sounds nice,” Laura said, startling Clint. “If… If you’re up to it.” 

 

Clint, eyes wide, checked her over. “Yeah. Yeah, uh, that sounds good.” Peter grinned in the backseat and rubbed his hands together. He was so good at this. “Revenge can wait.” 

 

“Oh, no, no, Mr. Barton. Leave it to me,” Peter said, grinning maliciously. “Leave it to me.” 

 

Peter climbs out of the car and leaves them for the second half of the date. He waves a goodbye before scaling the building and slipping through a window. 

 

He met Mr. Stark in the lab who was elbows deep in grease. Peter stood at the end of the car he was working on. “Mr. Stark, do you know anything about itching powder?” He knew he had more class than that, so it couldn’t have been him. 

 

“Oh, Peter!” Tony yelped, sitting up and hitting his forehead against the bottom of the car. He slid out, sat up, wiped some grease and sweat off his forehead, and exhaled deeply. “Shit, Fri, a warning next time.” 

 

“Memelord69 has arrived,” she said at last. 

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Friday,” he grumbled, grabbing a rag. “Did you say ‘itching powder’?” 

 

“Mhm,” Peter nodded. “Someone sabotaged Clint’s date.” 

 

“Peter, why are you crying?” 

 

Peter made a choked noise. “I’m not!” 

 

“You’re so sad looking,” Tony observed, squinting. “An actual kicked puppy.” 

 

“Mr. Stark, it was a date with  _ Laura!  _ The Laura? From the coffee shop?” 

 

“Oh, yeah,” he said, remembering her from their quick coffee stops before missions. “Right, right. She’s hot.” 

 

“Well, she’s never gonna marry Clint if their dates keep getting ruined!” Peter said, stomping his foot lightly. 

 

Tony raised an eyebrow and dropped the dirty rag in a bin. “First of all, it’s a first date. Second of all, it’s a first date. Third of all--” 

 

“The first date,” he groaned. “It’s unfair! This is why prank wars are the worst. Mr. Barton did  _ not  _ deserve that.” 

 

“Well, I don’t know anything about itching powder. My first guess would to be look at the local troublemakers around here.” 

 

“Right,” Peter said, dropping his fist in his open palm. “Who’s that again?” Tony’s eyebrow raises higher. “Not me, Mr. Stark. Who else?” 

 

“You’d be my first suspect. Then Clint…” 

 

“Clint didn’t sabotage himself.” 

 

“Or Steve. He can be a little shit, and Clint did blue shell him just last night.” 

 

“You’re a genius!” Peter said, running out of the lab. 

 

Tony sunk back under the car. Smirking to himself, he pursed his lips. “I know.” 

 

Peter raced downstairs so fast he stumbled a little. 

 

He ran straight into Steve, who was carrying a basket of clothes. All these servants around and the man still insisted on doing his own laundry. “What’s the rush?” 

 

Peter gave him a questioning look before following him into the laundry room. Steve shrugged it off, pulling trash out of the jean pockets before throwing them in. Peter snatched it up and fiddled through it. “I know you’re broke, but if you need money, you’d have much better luck asking Tony than fishing through the pockets.” 

 

“I’m looking for…” He stopped, pulling out a receipt. “No dice.” 

 

“What?” Steve asked, pouring some detergent in a capful. “Peter, maybe I can help--?” 

 

“Cap, if you see some powder laying around, let me know!” he said, slipping out the door and running. 

 

Captain gaped after the kid. “What is he  _ on  _ about?” 

 

Peter, sipping a drink, walks towards his bedroom. He knew it couldn’t be Steve and it couldn’t be Tony. His safest bet would probably be checking the cameras. 

 

He wraps his hand around the doorknob, and the second he steps through, his Spidey Sense goes off. He moves out of the way for a bucket of water to land on the ground. He flinches, throwing the door open, and as soon as his door hits the wall, an air horn goes off. 

 

“Hahaha!” a loud voice cackles, and Peter turns around to see Sam, doubling over. “Got you!” 

 

“You missed,” Peter said, looking at the spilled water all over his floor. 

 

“I never miss,” a new voice said, and Peter froze. Water was thrown on him, and he stumbled into the living room. Clint cackled victoriously. Laura gave him a crisp high five. “Payback!” 

 

“What?” Peter asked, drenched. 

 

“Payback for that dumb itching powder prank,” Clint said. “I know it was you, Peter.” 

 

“What?” he repeated. “Mr. Barton, I would never--” 

 

“It’s on, kid,” he said, disappearing the moment Peter looked away at Sam in confusion. Laura stood in his wake. Without warning, hands shot out of a vent and pulled her up. She waved a goodbye before they took their leave. 

 

“It wasn’t me, Mr. Wilson,” Peter said, sighing to Sam. “I never wanted a part of this prank war.” 

 

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have put itching powder in his clothes,” Sam said, walking off. 

 

Peter huffed, slammed the door behind him, not bothering to change his clothes while checking the cameras. 

 

No luck. 

 

An hour into his search, Friday summoned him for dinner. 

 

With a sigh, he put on a new shirt before slipping into the dining room. As always, he was the last to sit at the table. 

 

He made sure to check his seat before he sat down. His Spidey Sense was silent, but it didn’t always work. Not when he’s around the other Avengers, anyways. Something about them doesn’t seem “dangerous” according to his senses. 

 

He took his seat, grabbed his plate, and thanked the cook as usual. 

 

“So, Peter,” Tony started suddenly, “I heard you’ve been quite the troublemaker today.” 

 

Peter huffs. “Mr. Stark, you know I--” 

 

“Honestly, son, pranks can be taken too far,” Steve said. “Planting suspicious powers is not a joke.” 

 

“What?” he deadpanned. 

 

“It would be a disaster if one of the Avengers were doing crack cocaine. I mean, honestly, planting that in jean pockets? Irresponsible.” 

 

“Cap, no--” 

 

“Enough, son,” he said gruffly. “No more pranks for you.” 

 

Peter wanted to faceplant into the table. Beside him, Sam was covering his mouth. “It wasn’t me!” 

 

“Oh, Pete,” Bucky said, resting an arm on Steve’s shoulder, “you should apologize. You really hurt his feelings.” 

 

“I didn’t do anything!” Peter whined. 

 

Steve actually looked mad. “I saw the sign, Peter. It’s not funny.” 

 

“What sign?” he asked, exasperated. He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

 

“You know,” Steve snapped. “Practicing safe sex is not a joke.” 

 

“Whaaaaat?” Peter groaned. 

 

Natasha held up the plaque. It read “BREAK IN CASE OF A MIRACLE.” Inside the glass, a condom was displayed. “Distasteful, Peter.” 

 

“Oh my god,” he said, covering his face. “I don’t even like pranks!” 

 

“You know, I believed you,” Bruce said suddenly, looking hurt. “I really thought you were one of the sensible ones.” 

 

“Doctor Banner--” 

 

“That’s enough out of you,” Steve scolded, and Peter gave up. 

 

He rolled his eyes, earning a glare from Steve. He started picking at his food. He popped a bite of lasagna, and everything was fine until… His food was tasting kind of funny. 

 

He spit it out, letting the mouthful fall into a napkin. Bruce gagged across the table. “Peppermint?” Peter exclaimed. “Why?” 

 

“Oh, no, Peter, we’re not stupid,” Steve said, crinkling his nose in distaste. “We know it’s you.” 

 

Peter puts a hand over his heart. “I would  _ never  _ do that to myself willingly.” 

 

Peter reached for his drink to wash the taste out of his mouth, and he cringed when he started drinking the salty water. He spit it out instantly. 

 

He wiped it off his face, fuming. Everyone was looking so disgusted, except… Bucky and Sam. They were  _ grinning.  _

 

Peter fumes, and he lets out a grumble before tackling Sam out of his seat. Sam lets out an “Oof!” as he’s pressed against the ground. Peter grabs his hands as tight as he could. 

 

“You’ve been setting me up all day!” he said, putting pressure on his chest. He sits on top of him, legs on each side. Sam’s chest hitches. The kid doesn’t weigh a lot, but it’s not exactly pleasant when he sits right on top of his chest. “Tell the truth! Tell them!” 

 

Peter really thought he had him. 

 

If he just put enough pressure, he knew Sam would give in and tell the truth. This madness would finally come to an end. It should be common sense that it wasn’t Peter, but everyone was working against him today. 

 

Sam made a punched noise, and Peter grinned. Things were finally going to turn up. 

 

But then Sam started smirking. Peter’s own smile dropped. The man, obviously in a small amount of time, started snickering. 

 

Peter gulped. 

 

His Spidey Sense went off, but there was too much going on at once. A metal hand wrapped around Peter’s stomach, and he was yanked off of Sam. Sam got up as soon as he was pulled off of him. 

 

“Now you’re attacking teammates?” Bucky asked, pulling the struggling boy away from Sam. “So rude.” 

 

“Peter, enough,” Steve said, sighing. “You’re out of control tonight.” 

 

Peter fumed, elbowing Bucky in the side. Bucky didn’t flinch - he’d obviously taken much worse before. Peter didn’t expect to hurt him that much, but he also didn’t expect him to smile. 

 

They really did have him right where they wanted him. 

 

“Peter,” Steve barked. “Come here.” 

 

Peter stopped fighting Bucky. He stumbled to face Captain America, who had climbed out of his seat to give Peter a disapproving look. “I ought to send you to your room. This whole thing has gone out of line.” 

 

Peter sighed, hanging his head. He was ready to just give in and take the scolding. 

 

Before he could give up, he saw Sam, behind Captain, hold up the itching powder tauntingly. Peter fumed, quickly moving to point. But before he could even raise his hand, Steve stopped. “Sit down and finish your food.” 

 

“But, Cap--” Peter whined, looking at Sam. 

 

“No buts.” 

 

Peter climbed into his seat, not even bothering to touch it. “It’s Peppermint-y.” 

 

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before hand, hmm?” Tony suggested, poking his own steak with his fork. 

 

Peter sighed. “I’m going to my room. Thanks for dinner.” 

 

He pushes his chair in and drops his steak in the trash. He hates to waste food, but there’s no way he’s gonna eat it now. 

 

He storms off to his room, locking the door behind him. 

 

Peter tries to wait until the others go to sleep to sneak into the kitchen and grab a snack, but he’s just so hungry. 

 

He creaks open his door to find the others seated around the TV. They’re watching some horror movie (for some reason, they think horror is too inappropriate for Peter, even though he sees worse on a daily basis). He’s thankful they’re distracted. He crawls on the ceiling and sneakily grabs a box of donuts out of the pantry. He startes to sneak back into his room, but he must’ve touched the wrong tile on the ceiling because an alarm sounds, and he drops off. He lands in the middle of the living room floor. 

 

The movie pauses. “I thought I told you to go to your room,” Steve said, and Peter guiltily lowered the donut box in his hand. 

 

“Cap,” he starts, but he’s already pulling him off of the ground. 

 

“Scaring him when he’s watching a horror movie?” Tony clicked his tongue. “Shame, Peter. I thought you were better than that.” 

 

“That wasn’t the idea,” Peter said, realizing he was set up again. He gulped as Steve crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. 

 

“I have no other choice.” 

 

Peter doesn’t know what he’s expecting. He’s already cringing at his strict tone of voice, that same tone of voice they show at school, and his stern expression. He doesn’t think Steve would hit him, but he’s preparing for the worst at this point. 

 

Before he knows it, he’s being lifted up off the ground and gently thrown on the couch. Peter struggles to sit up, but Steve’s already pushing him back down. 

 

He winces, ready for him to hit him, to beat him. 

 

The last thing in the world he was expecting was Steve to dig his fingers into his side. 

 

Peter let out a yelp instantly, almost jumping back on the ceiling. He would’ve if Steve wasn’t holding him in a death grip. Peter writhed, trying to get away from him. 

 

He’d almost forgotten the mat incident. 

 

Peter cringed at the memory, of how Steve, Sam, Bucky, and eventually Tony assaulted him on the mat and tickled him until he couldn’t breathe. 

 

“I’m innocent!” Peter defended, trying to stop his hands. Peter grabbed ahold of Steve’s hands, and he tried to throw him off of him. “Think about this!” 

 

“You need a hand, Capsicle?” And, no, no, no, Peter froze as the Iron Gauntlet was already forming around Tony’s hand. He grabbed Peter’s hand and pulled them away from his body. 

 

“Mr. Stark,” he tried, bucking in the hold. 

 

Steve dug a finger into his rib, and Peter thrusted up, throwing Steve off balance. He tugged against Tony’s hold and weaseled his way out. 

 

He backed up, holding his hands up. “Please,” he begged, but it was no use. He was already being cornered into a wall. 

 

Tony took a step forward, and Peter stepped back. He gulped, spun on his heels to flee, but he was caught short by running face first into Bucky, and when did he get there? 

 

Peter squealed as he was hoisted into the air. Bucky threw him on the floor, grabbing one arm tightly. Tony moved around to get the other. “Mr. Stark,” he tried, but it was too late. Tony moved to his head, Steve at his side, and Sam at his feet. “I didn’t prank anyone!” 

 

“You know what happens to liars around here?” Tony asked, strumming his fingers on Peter’s arm. 

 

Peter shook his head frantically. “Not a liar,” he declared. “Ah, Dr. Banner! Help!” 

 

Bruce pushed up his glasses on his nose. “That prank was awfully mean, Peter…” 

 

Tony grinned ear to ear. “Give him hell.” 

 

Peter’s blood went cold. Steve’s fingers dug into his side, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle. Bucky started playing with the inside of his palm, and Peter tried to squeeze his hand into a fist. He struggled to get his hand back, but it was no use. Tony and Bucky were just holding on way too tight. 

 

Steve continued his attack, running his fingers up and down his side. He brushed against Peter’s belly button, and he cackled. “Cap! Captain Rog… Cap, please!” he begged, laughing loudly. “I promise it wasn’t me!” 

 

“Wanna lie to me some more?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He gives a small pinch to his stomach, and Peter drops his head. 

 

Fine. If this is how it’s gonna be, he’s gonna play dirty. Peter picks up his foot to kick off Steve. Steve is prepared, though, and he’s already steadying himself. Sam is prepared, too, because the second Peter’s foot flies, he catches it. 

 

Uh oh. 

 

Peter realizes his mistake far too late. He struggles to get his foot back, but Sam’s already tugging on his shoe. He fights it, though. 

 

Peter’s not going down easy. 

 

Sam grunts, struggling to pull his shoe off. “Damn,” he cursed, going to lock his foot in with his elbow. Peter won’t stop moving. 

 

“Oh,” Tony says simply. “Need help?” 

 

Peter moves his other foot out of the way, but that wasn’t Tony’s target. Tony, holding his left hand with his right hand, leaned over his stomach. 

 

Peter winced, anticipating the featherly light touches. He turned his head away to miss Tony planting his mouth on his exposed stomach. 

 

The only sound in the room at this point is Peter’s cackling and the loud raspberries Tony is blowing on his stomach. “Stop!” he yelps, wanting to push him off of him. “Oh my god, oh my god! Mr. Staaaaaaahahrk!” He giggles, freezing in terror when Sam yanks off his shoes. 

 

Peter doesn’t stay still for long because there’s already a hand digging into his side again. 

 

A pesky hand digs into his neck, and he scrunches down. He tries to roll away from Tony, who has stopped blowing raspberries and resorted to picking on his neck. 

 

“Stop, stop, stop!” Peter cries, eyes already leaky from laughing so hard. 

 

His socks are discarded, and as soon as the light touch brushes against the sole of his foot, he screams. “Oh my god!” he yelled, trying to hide his face. Tony wasn’t having it, though. He gently pulls his head back by teasing both sides of his neck. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry!” Sam’s hands move faster, and he convulses. “Sorry, oh my god, sorry! I said-- Oh…!” Peter can’t speak anymore, not with Bucky digging his fingers into his armpit. 

 

He hiccups gently, mouth hanging open. He’s no longer screaming now, just wheezing for breath. “So you admit it?” Steve asked, pausing. 

 

Peter gladly takes in a sweet inhale of fresh air. He pants before answering, enjoying the feeling of not having his body on fire for just a sweet second. When he doesn’t answer fast enough, he tazes him in the side. “No,” he said finally. “I would never--Aah, please--!” He lets out a yell as the tickling resumes, and Peter wants to die. 

 

Dying would be a less painful death. 

 

Peter wheezes, “It wasn’t me! I’m being framed!” he tried, but no one was having it. Peter shut his eyes tight. “Please, please, Friday! Friday!” 

 

“Yes, Memelord69?” 

 

“Show the clip. At dinner. Show dinner!” 

 

Steve doesn’t stop, but he slows down. They all do. He cranes his head to see the screen where Sam is covering the steak in peppermint oil. 

 

Peter grins, so happy he’s free. “Show the other clips,” Tony said, unlocking the previously private clips hidden to Peter. 

 

And there they have it. It showed Clint setting up the prank in Peter’s room, Sam pouring itching powder in Clint’s outfit. All of it. 

 

“Hah!” Peter announced. “See?” But Steve didn’t move. No one did. Peter tested the hold and found he was still held against the ground. “Cap?” he tried. 

 

“Well, what do you know?” he hummed, leaning back to squeeze his kneecap. He brushes his fingers against the underside of his knee, and Peter kicks. 

 

“But I… I’m innocent!” Peter tries, still laughing. 

 

“Yeah, but this is fun,” Steve said, shrugging. 

 

“Oh, you’re just happy you’re not on the receiving end, Stevie.” 

 

Steve stopped, looking up at Bucky. “Hey,” he warned. 

 

“Hey,” Bucky said. 

 

Steve squinted before Bucky launched after Steve. 

 

Peter scrambled, happy to have his arm back. He pulls himself away from Sam and Tony. 

 

This time, he knows better. He runs to the window, thankful when Friday opens it, and throws himself out of it. 

 

Bucky and Steve stop rolling around to look out the window, which is letting cold air in. 

 

“Did he just…?” 

 

“He did,” Tony said, grinning. 

 

Moments later, lightning struck, and Bruce was frowning. “I hope he’s okay,” he says from where he’s sat on the couch. “If it’s storming--” 

 

“Greetings!” Thor boomed, holding a struggling Peter. 

 

The Norse god was no match for Peter. 

 

This was the end of the line. 

 

“Thor, please, put me down,” Peter said, cringing as Tony approached. 

 

Thor did, but Tony was already pouncing on him. 

 

It’s safe to say Peter lost the prank war. 

 

Of course, Peter was already scheming his revenge. The others weren’t gonna know what’s coming. 

**Author's Note:**

> wow. i really wrote 15 pages of this shit instead of sleeping. 
> 
> um, anyways, if u liked, pls leave a comment or kudos! (i may do more tickle fics if y'all want?? i kinda like writing them buuuuuut who knows)


End file.
